


Lazy

by choirboyharem



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 16:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20745338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choirboyharem/pseuds/choirboyharem
Summary: Jay is tapped out and nestled into Mike, who’s as tapped out as Jay himself is. They’re tapped out for the rest of the day, business be damned. There’s no waiting orders. No emergencies. Nothing that needs shipping or unboxing. Nothing to watch. Who can really care? Plinkett can fuck off for one afternoon.





	Lazy

**Author's Note:**

> i like to be an embarrassment to my family and humanity at large and i can’t stop thinking about the funny old youtube men

It’s two- or three-something in the afternoon and the sun feels hot and drowsy through the dusty, smeared windows in the workshop’s upper level, the texture of the grit cutting up the beams. Jay is still kind of hungover, but it’s such a normal state of being that he can disregard it. It’s only making him lethargic. He’s totally tapped out for the day, so it doesn’t matter. 

He’s tapped out and nestled into Mike, who’s as tapped out as Jay himself is. They’re tapped out for the rest of the day, business be damned. There’s no waiting orders. No emergencies. Nothing that needs shipping or unboxing. Nothing to watch. Who can really care? Plinkett can fuck off for one afternoon. 

Jay is essentially holding Mike hostage, anyway. He’s curled over him like a flesh-eating bacteria, clinging to him and his grubby uniform. One arm over Mike’s side, one leg over Mike’s hips. His nose nudges Mike’s collar, breathing warm and steady against it. It’s all. . . blissful, kind of. It feels all right. It’s childish and needless and weirdly clingy, especially for them, but it still feels right. 

Mike mumbles something vague and it’s the first thing he’s said in a while. Jay straightens just enough to look at him, eyes slow in sleepiness. “What?”

”Fuckin’ smothering me.” Mike’s eye, the closest to the pillow behind his head, stays shut while the other watches Jay, squinted. “You’re the only thing I can smell.”

”I’m guessing it could be worse,” Jay says, settling back down against the mattress. It’s worn and broken-in and absolutely needs a replacement. It’s carved out the shapes of their bodies like it’s evidence. “Compared to, um, everything else in here.” 

“Which could also be worse.” Both of Mike’s eyes close again. “It’s. . . fine, you know. I don’t care.”

”About the smothering?” 

“No. Yeah.” Mike makes a vague motion with his hand. “S’fine.”

So Jay draws himself in closer, his nose touching Mike’s. Almost. There’s a quarter-inch’s worth of space. It still feels all right. Mike exhales and the noise settles down inside Jay like a sedative. His fingers press into Mike like he’s going to go somewhere, even though he won’t. Neither of them will. 

Mike says something else and it takes a second for Jay’s auditory processing to work. 

“Huh?”

“What’s with the. . .” Mike gestures vaguely at Jay, pulling back just enough to be able to move. “Are you cold? Are you having some kind of anxiety attack?” 

“What, this? The hugging? I don’t know, it’s just. . .” Jay doesn’t have an answer other than “_I wanted to”, _because there isn’t one. “Wasn’t really thinking about it. The bed’s not that big, y’know; it’s either that I cling or I fall off.”

“I don’t appreciate you completely insulting my intelligence by saying you need _that_ much room on your side of the bed, Jay. I don’t—I don’t have a lot of it right now. Can’t take the toll of it being insulted.”

“Did you want me to stop?”

“Never said that,” Mike grumbles into the pillow. “Just don’t like when you lie to me.”

Jay snickers quietly and tucks himself back into Mike. The workshop is quiet again and Jay can feel the sunlight through the windows hit his back, soaking through his uniform, seeping through his skin and filling his bones. He’s lazy and useless and maybe kind of grossly affectionate and nothing about it could possibly be more perfect. Not right now. Not on this afternoon. After all, there’s nothing else to do. They’re tapped out. 


End file.
